DISCLAIMER: All rights go to Aurthur Conan Doyle and the BBC, respectively.

"No, I don't have a clue where you got that idea. I did not hide- don't roll your eyes at me Mary, you know how he is."

"John, I am many things, but I am not a liar," Sherlock interjected haughtily.

"Bullocks!" John exclaimed. Mary hid a grin, looking across the room to Molly, who stood next to her husband. Mary rolled her eyes and mouthed 'These two!'

Molly giggled and nodded. 'Like children, they are,' she silently replied, gesturing to Sherlock and John. John was laid up in the hospital bed, but his face was full of a smile. Sherlock wore a similar grin, his eyes full of mischief.

"Seriously John," Molly spoke up, and John turned to her. "It is good to see you again."

John nodded to her kindly. "Thanks, Molly." Molly smiled at him for a few seconds before glancing at Sherlock and elbowing him none-too-subtly in the ribs. Sherlock flinched away and glared down at Molly. She looked pointedly at John and then back to Sherlock. He rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he sighed. Then he looked to John. "My life was worthless without you," he deadpanned. "I can never express the depth of my joy that you are still here. In my life." He cleared his throat. "Alive."

John stared at him for a moment, and Sherlock gazed back. An awkward silence fell over the room, until John sniggered. "Shut up, idiot."

Sherlock's façade cracked and soon, the hospital room was full of laughter again. Mary was holding John's hand as he laid in the hospital bed, Molly had her arm looped through Sherlock, standing in the door way. The two couples chatted for a few moments more, before John yawned and shifted with a flinch.

"Oh, I think that is probably our signal to go," Molly said. Mary shook her head.

"No, stay! John is just being a baby. He doesn't need sleep," she teased. John protested too, after shooting his wife a playful warning.

"You should stay," he said. "We can have some of my hospital pudding for dinner."

"As tempting as the sounds, I am afraid we have to decline," Molly replied kindly. "I have the early shift tomorrow, and Mycroft is probably due to swoop in at any moment, to 'check in' on Sherlock." She knocked her elbow into Sherlock's.

"Well, if you must," Mary stood up from her seat next to John, and moved in to hug the couple.

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Before we go, I do have some things I would like to say to John," he said. When nobody made a move, he continued, "Alone."

Mary gave Molly a look with raised brows, and whispered. "Let's leave the lovebirds alone."

"We're not gay!" the two men chorused together, but their protests fell on uncaring ears. When the door closed behind the girls, Sherlock looked to John.

"I don't really know how to say this," he began, not making eye contact with John. "You know I am not very good with expressions of sentiment. It is something- it is an area I am not very well versed in."

John shifted uncomfortably. "Sherlock-" he began, but Sherlock cut him off.

"No, I- I have to say this."

John looked at him a moment longer, before nodding stiffly. "Go on."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "In the- during the ambush, I didn't mean to miss that man. I don't know how I didn't see him, and I haven't been able to sleep very well with the knowledge that my mistake nearly killed you- my best friend." He shuffled from one foot to the other. "I am sorry-" he let out a breath, and a shaky laugh. He ran a hand nervously through his raven curls.

"Sherlock, I know," John said, just as uncomfortably. "You don't have to say anything. It is fine."

"I just wanted to say I am sorry."

John nodded. "Alright. Apology accepted."

Sherlock coughed. "Good."

There was a beat, and then Sherlock eyed his friend. "You also may want to start using a less heavy shaving cream," he said. "And maybe consider letting Mary cut your hair for you next time."

The doctor rolled his eyes. "Get out."

Molly looped her arms with Sherlock's as they walked out of the hospital. She looked up at him.

"So what did you have to say to John?" she inquired. He shrugged.

"Oh you know, the usual."

Molly stood on her tiptoes and leaned into his side. "You're lying," she sang in his ear.

"And you, Molly Hooper-Holmes, lied about having the morning shift at Bart's," Sherlock looked at her out of the corner of his eyes.

It was her turn to shrug. "Maybe I had a good reason to," she offered innocently.

Sherlock raised a brow. "And why, pray tell, would that reason be?" He already knew the reason, obviously, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Instead of answering, Molly hummed and posed a question. "Would you be willing to play the violin for me tonight?"

Sherlock considered it. "I could," he said slowly. "Would you wish me to?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I really would."

"Then consider it done."

Molly smiled. They walked a few minutes in silence, before she spoke again. "I am glad I don't have the early shift tomorrow."

"I would think you would mourn the loss of getting up at an ungodly hour to spend all day with the dead," Sherlock replied, his sarcasm evident. Molly rolled her eyes.

"No," she emphasized. "I get to spend a couple more hours with you."

"I am not much better company than a cadaver."

"No, you're not," Molly nodded in agreement. "But I do like you a bit better than a body. Plus," she added, almost as an afterthought. "I have missed you."

Sherlock made a noise of discontent. "Missed me? I have been back for some time, Molly."

"Maybe in body, but not in soul. You had been so haunted by the war that you were locked in your own head for weeks. It wasn't until I told you John was still alive that you- that you got better."

Sherlock was silent for a beat. "I had not realized it affected you so much." He lowered his voice. "I am truly sorry."

"Oh, it isn't that important now. I am just grateful you are back," she said as they reached 221B. Sherlock unlooped his arm from hers to open the door.

"Shall we?" He gestured for her to enter, and she playfully nodded her thanks.

"How kind of you, sir."

With that, Sherlock and Molly Holmes entered the flat together, shutting the door behind them. There was peace, until a crash could be heard, followed by Mrs. Hudson's sharp scream.

"Why is there a pig head in the icebox?!"

"It's an experiment!"

FIN.

A/N: So that was the fianl chapter. Kind of short, but I wanted to have some sort of conversation between John and Sherlock. I hope you guys enjoyed this! I can honestly say that I am actually rather happy with the final result of it. I am very grateful for every single review. You guys are the absolute sweetest. *hugs and kisses for all* And a special thanks to the Monter, my editor friend, for her hand in the deal. :* Love you!

Wishing you all hot cocoa and little British cuties (*the Ben**cough**the Tom*),

Daliah.